No Ordinary Love
by Scarlett71177
Summary: E/B Wedding Night. 'He was almost beginning to think this could be possible.' One Shot.


_**Author's Note: **This is a piece intended for mature audiences. If you do not think it is appropriate for you to read this wedding night fic or if you don't appreciate R-rated works- please refrain. I'll be writing lots more soon. Thanks. Scarlett_

_The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions._ Alfred Lord Tennyson

* * *

The lights were out, per her shyly expressed wishes, and the newly wed Edward Cullen nervously paced the floor of his bedroom as the first track in the CD player repeated for the eleventh time. The slow, throbbing, continuous beat was soothing, almost hypnotic, and it allowed him to think. He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over the desk chair before turning his attention to the buttons at the wrist of his shirt. He unbuttoned them hastily and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows before resuming his tread across the floor.

The light that spilled in through the glass windows was from the waning gibbous moon and its reflected light flickered through the trees outside and across the floor, dark shadows in indigo one moment, gone the next, bathing the room in an eerie light. Alice had suggested a patchouli-scented candle to set ambiance, relax Bella, and hopefully mask the scent of her blood. It was a preposterous suggestion that anything could hide an aroma so sweet. Even as she stood before him, exchanging their vows mere hours ago, he could pick out her bouquet amongst the fragrances of the white lilies, gardenias, and red roses adorning the Cullen's garden.

It was silly to worry really; he'd taken every precaution that he could—hunting almost continuously for the two days leading up to the wedding. He felt gorged, satiated, but that did nothing to calm his fears that he could harm her. And oh, the harm he could do. An overly enthusiastic kiss, a misplaced caress, or too much weight on her fragile body could end her precious life. That was the kind of worry he couldn't share with her; it was something beyond her comprehension. Edward was sure Bella would simply suggest hurriedly biting her before she got a chance to expire. She had no idea about the kind of guilt that would plague his already soulless existence if her change occurred under those circumstances. His thoughts felt jumbled, unclear, like churning water; one thought bubble after another, quiet dread roiling under the surface.

Edward's eyes unnecessarily darted toward the clock on the stereo—only two minutes later than the last time he'd looked. He groaned aloud and reached for the Windsor knot on the necktie looped around his neck. Pulling at the silk fabric, he loosened it and yanked it away from the collar and tossed it absently on the bed before unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt.

Bella had nervously excused herself little over thirty minutes ago to hang her vintage-inspired wedding dress up in Alice's closet and 'get ready,' whatever that meant. Edward had simply nodded, his hands balled up into fists in his pockets after helping her unfasten the tiniest of hook and eye closures running down the back of the dress. The urge to touch her skin had been so great he trailed a finger down her spine leaving goose bumps in his wake.

Downstairs, he'd heard the garment bag unzip and zip back up, heard the shower start and stop, and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps she'd decided she wasn't ready and he'd be given some kind of sadomasochistic reprieve when he heard her feet on the stairs.

Abruptly he stopped his pacing, turning to face the closed bedroom door, waiting. There was nothing else to do. He'd spent nearly a century waiting and now, suddenly, it wasn't long enough. He'd laid out the ground rules several nights ago, instituting a 'back out' clause at that time. If he even had to question his control slipping—he would stop and leave if need be. No amount of pleasure was worth hurting her, marring her perfection.

He wondered, not for the first time, if he should have asked Alice to stay behind from the family hunting trip. She and Bella could have discussed—things and, although it was deeply personal, she could have kept an eye on Bella's future. Honeymooning in a hotel was out of the question, that would be the worst place to lose control, and Bella wanted their first time to be in his bed—_their_ bed, so the Cullens saw the last wedding guests out and excused themselves on a planned a trip to Goat Rocks.

It was stupid, incredibly stupid to be alone now that the full impact of their decision sunk in. What if something happened? Did the family really have that much faith in him to just leave them behind? Was Alice's vision that clear that Bella would remain unharmed?

Bella's fingers tapped gently on the door. "Can I come in?" she asked softly as she pushed it open and peeked inside.

Edward laughed nervously, exhaling. "Of course. Albeit temporary, this is _your_ home now too." Temporary was the key word. Already anything that wouldn't be seen by wedding guests had been sent ahead to 'Dartmouth,' including most of Bella's belongings.

She pushed the door open further, letting the yellow light in from the chandelier at the end of the hall above the stairs. He didn't need the added fragments of illumination, surrounding her in an almost heavenly light, to see her in the relative darkness.

His new wife stood at the threshold of the door wearing an off-white silk chemise, the hem barely reaching the top of her thighs. Her hair was unpinned now, falling in soft waves, framing her face, hiding her eyes from his gaze. She clasped her hands in front of her and dug her toes into the carpet.

He longed to see her face, to interpret her expression since he couldn't read her mind. _Did she want this? Was she ready?_

"You look—lovely," he offered lamely, his voice low, husky.

She bit her lip and looked down; he could smell the rush of blood to her face, warming her cheeks. She crept further into the room, her eyes darting toward the bed. He didn't miss that. "Thanks. You too. I mean, you looked so handsome today. Seeing you at the altar almost took my breath away."

He scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Believe me, if anyone's breath was taken away, it was mine—regardless of the fact that I don't need to breathe." He smirked down at her before resuming. "I was stunned. You always look so beautiful, but today—" he sighed, taking a step closer. "Your hair, your dress, _you_. I've forgotten what it feels like for my heart to beat, I only know the sound and sensation of yours, but today I swear my heart was racing."

She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his waist, burrowing her face into his shirt, seeking out his exposed chest. She inhaled deeply and then sighed against his skin.

Edward removed his hands from his pockets, gently resting them on her hips, her warmth radiating through the silky fabric. He drew her in closer, noticing her trembling slightly. "Bella?" He moved one hand to her chin, tilting it up a little, making her look into his seeking golden eyes for the first time since she'd set foot in the room. "You're shaking." His comment was matter of fact, there was a tone of predictability in his voice as though he'd expected or wanted this all along. "If you don't want to do this—if you're nervous or you've changed your mind…" his voice trailed off as he drew his thumb over her bottom lip.

"Aren't _you_ nervous?" She looked up at him expectantly, the moonlight reflecting in her dark eyes.

His throat was closing. No rush of venom this time, but thorns and burrs strangling his words and the breath he didn't need. Every swallow was tight, painful, and he bowed his head before taking her face in between his hands, holding her gaze. "Terribly so, I don't think I've ever been so scared in my existence. Bella, one wrong move and I could take your life."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her brows furrowing. "Is _that_ why you think I'm scared?" she choked out, incredulity creeping into her voice.

"Isn't it?" he questioned, surprised, his expression crumpling into one of confusion and frustration. He wished for the thousandth time he could just _know_ what she was thinking and not have to wait for her to edit and verbalize.

She shook her head, another blush tainting her pale cheeks. "No. I trust you, Edward." She stopped to press a finger to his lips, killing the protest that was already forming there. "If I don't say this now, I never will." Her gaze dropped to the floor again and her hands settled in the crook of his elbows. "I'm—just worried about making you happy." Her voice, barely above a whisper, broke twice as she fingered the fabric of his shirtsleeves.

He was silent for a long moment, lost in his own contemplation. How would he ever deserve her? He'd done nothing in his entire existence that had been worthy of such a reward. No, on the contrary, since he'd met her his reputation and penchant for selfishness, darkness, and his ability to bring danger into her life had grown, and was about to get more grim if he fulfilled the rest of his bargain. She wasn't concerned with the fact that this could be the last night of her life, but rather, when they consummated their marriage, that she should please him.

"Bella, I—" What could he possibly say in reply? This girl, this _woman_, his _wife_ had already given him so much—a love he didn't deserve, and she was about to give him her body and soul. "You've already made me happier than I ever thought I could be. If this—" he gently caressed her cheek with his fingertip reminiscent of the first intimate touch between them, and then gently leaned in to press a kiss to her lips, his fingers tangling in the dark waves falling about her shoulders, "—is as far as we ever go—I can be satisfied, more than satisfied, elated. It's more than I could hope for. Every day we've been together you've put your life at risk for me, for my selfish pursuits, and I can't ask any more of you. I know you want more, and I made a promise to _try_ to give it to you."

Her lips formed a delicate pout, her brows creasing again. "Don't _you_ want more? Honestly?" Hurt was smeared across her face as she stared up at him. The familiar feelings of rejection that he knew he often inadvertently made her feel were creeping out of the dark shadows of her psyche.

He wanted more. _So_ much more. Watching Bella sleep, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his, tasting her breath, hearing her sleep talk, it afforded him the luxury of daydreams of the bawdiest variety. Things he never should have dared to imagine—a less breakable Bella in the throes of passion, her golden eyes staring up at him. He'd had a lifetime to interpret and see the desires of others play through his own head like a filmstrip, unable to be ignored, but experiencing it was so much different than he ever imagined. "Of course I do," he admitted in a stifled voice. "You're beautiful, and you're my wife now—but I won't kill you to experience that passion, Bella."

"Exactly. You won't kill me. Please let's just go about this like the teenagers that we are." She dropped her voice to a whisper and slowly slid her hands up his arms, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I love you, I trust you, and I'd be just as scared if one of us wasn't a vampire. _Please_?"

'Please,' it was always his undoing.

She leaned in close, grabbing the front of his shirt, the fabric wrinkling in her fists as she pulled him closer. He didn't fight it, he couldn't. She threaded her fingers through his hair when their lips met, the heat from her body, her mouth, exuding warmth as she molded her body against his. The intensity of her kiss burned his skin, the electric current passing between them, jarring his senses, addling them somehow. He should have pulled away, retreated, but he could not. The taste of her lips, the sensation of her heart pounding against his chest, the way her fingers wove deep into his hair—it was all his undoing.

Her tongue traced his lower lip, and a low growl rippled through his chest as he cupped the back of her neck with one hand, the other settling at the small of her back, drawing her even closer. He felt her gasp at the contact of the lean lines of his body pressed to hers and he took advantage of the opportunity. Edward parted his lips, his tongue darting out to tangle with hers, the taste of her breath the sweetest ambrosia he had ever, would ever, know.

Bella's heart pounded erratically against her ribcage and her lungs screamed for oxygen, but a part of him did not want to stop. She tore her lips away from his, panting breathlessly, her eyes darting between his lips and the already exposed skin on his chest.

"Slow, Bella," Edward whispered, pulling back slightly, his icy fingertips traveling from her neck down her spine causing her to squirm against his chilly touch.

"I know," she whispered, the familiar pink hue returning to her cheeks. "I'm trying."

He smirked, the corner of his lip hitching up slightly as he pressed a kiss to the apple of her cheek, his lips lingering on the warm flesh. "I know, it's difficult for me too. I've waited a long time for this, and I just want it to last."

Softly, he kissed a path across the bridge of her nose to the other cheek and down the side of her jaw. "Il mio cantante," he whispered softly against her earlobe, his fingers knotting the silky fabric at the small of her back.

She let out a broken sigh, her hands slipping from his unruly locks of hair, nails trailing over the taut skin of his neck, causing him to shudder, and following the seam of his unbuttoned shirt. Nimble fingers fumbled with the fourth button when his lips captured hers again, pulling her closer, unable to keep away. She was a temptress, she was magic, and he was utterly bewitched by her presence and the awesome power that she had over him.

He heard, _felt_, her inhale sharply and was worried he'd pulled her too firmly, but her heart was racing excitedly, and she was responding to his kiss with a reckless abandon. The kiss was all the encouragement she needed to quickly unfasten the remaining buttons, spreading his shirt open when she was finished, her hands smoothing over his marble-like skin.

He could no longer contain the moan that was fighting to spill from his lips, knowing full well what liberties she would take, what rule she would violate. His lips parted, the involuntary sound escaping, when her tongue darted forward, crossing the barrier into his mouth.

He waited, expecting the rush of venom to pool beneath his tongue, but the sensation of her body pressed to his canceled out every other instinct raging inside him. He felt her pushing his shirt off his shoulders, felt it drop from his arms to the floor, but he was powerless to do anything except sweep her up in his arms and move toward the bed.

Their lips never parted as he bent low to lay her on the wrought-iron bed, the gold comforter creasing under her weight. He hesitated at the bedside for a moment, toeing off his black leather shoes, and the pause allowed Bella enough time to scramble up to her knees, her fingers slowly trailing down over his chest, the warmth of her skin unbelievably pleasurable.

"Bella, wait," he hissed, tearing his lips from hers when her hands ghosted over his lower abdomen, flirting with the waist of his suit pants. This was going too quickly, he wanted more control than this and it was slowly slipping away, her side of the scale tipping heavily in her favor.

She was panting, her chest heaving with the effort of breathing when her eyes darted up to his, appraising the situation. "Edward, please? Please don't say no, please don't stop. You can do this."

He didn't have a choice, really. He'd promised, promised her this one human experience. An experience she could have shared with any number of people, but one she wanted to share with him and him alone. She'd fulfilled her part of the bargain and he felt the pressure to even the odds.

"I'm not stopping," he vowed softly, his nose nuzzling hers as his fingers traced over the thin spaghetti straps of her nightdress. "Just slowing things down, love."

He knelt on the bed in front of her, hands resting lightly on her hips as he guided her toward the center and down onto the soft mattress. Her eyes found his, even in the dark room, and their gaze held as he settled above her, conscious of how much weight she bore.

Propped up on his elbow, he let his free hand wander from her hip to the smooth expanse of her stomach toward the gentle rise of her breast. His hand trembled, shook with the effort of trying to maintain control, but his fingers tentatively reached out, gently palming the supple flesh. Bella gasped and his eyes darted between his ministrations and her expression. She arched her chest against his hand, her eyes fluttering closed, and her jaw slackened as she breathed heavily.

He understood the theory, the practice, of the this sensual exploration—he'd seen enough of Hollywood's version of the events combined with the generally lewd ideas occupying human and vampire minds alike—but he wasn't prepared to _feel _the swell of emotion watching his wife, his Bella, writhing in pleasure.

The dull burning in his throat was gone, the desire to hunt buried beneath some baser instinct boiling under the surface of his cold skin. She tipped her head back and his lips descended on her throat, kissing his way down the smooth skin to her décolletage. He left a wake of soft, open-mouthed kisses down her collarbone toward her breastbone. There was danger behind his lips, but for once, danger was the furthest thing from his mind. He didn't stop when he reached the seam of her chemise.

"Edward."

His name tumbled from her lips like a prayer as she fisted his hair and draped one leg over his, her heart pounding beneath his lips. His hand moved from her breast to the strap of her chemise, his fingers trembling nervously over her shoulder.

"Yes, please," she whispered, her breath wafting in his face, hot and sweet.

He kissed her quickly, finding courage in her eagerness, and hurriedly slid the strap off her shoulder, not daring to breathe as pale skin that had never been revealed to him before was suddenly exposed. Golden eyes wide, he was afraid to blink, afraid to find this whole affair was a charade, a mirage, some delusion his mad brain had concocted. Regardless, this was the best dream he would ever have. Carefully, so carefully, his mouth found the place his palm had been only moments before. Bella hissed and shivered at the contact, her back arching against his mouth, his breath leaving goose bumps on her skin.

"I'm sorry, Bella." His voice was melancholy as he traced the path of raised flesh with his nearly equally icy fingertip.

She took his face between her hands and sought out his eyes. "No, please don't be. I love you. This is a dream come true."

He took a moment to mourn her words, turning his head to kiss her palm. She _did_ love him, though she shouldn't, he was a risk, a threat to her very life, but in that danger was her loyalty, her acceptance, and his resolve to fulfill this solitary human experience.

He nodded, more to himself than to her, and swiftly rolled over toward the center of the bed, their positions reversing. Her dark eyes widened in surprise at the sensation, for she now sat astride his hips, his hands resting atop her thighs, the familiar tingling sensation passing from her body to his.

His fingers ghosted over her skin to the hem of her nightdress and he crushed the flimsy beige fabric in his grasp, pausing, eyes darting to hers for her consent. Stronger than ever, her heart pounded in his ears, every beat a precious sound, and she nodded her head ever so slightly, granting him permission. The fabric wrinkled and folded as inch by inch of her skin was revealed: her panties matched the chemise with a tiny pink rosebud a few inches below her navel, a kidney shaped birthmark he'd never seen before stained her skin near her left hip, and the raised skin of an old scar on her right shoulder was obvious under his fingers as she lifted her arms and maneuvered out of the garment.

Every detail was bright and crisp to his eyes, even in the dim moonlight and the green glow from the stereo. The throbbing melody of the music was barely noticeable now, and her blush did not go unobserved either. He forced himself to swallow, purely out of habit, as she was uncovered to him, the bunched up nightdress still in his hands as they slid down her back.

"Oh, Bella," he sighed, dropping the material, hands settling on her hips again, "you're beautiful." He longed to touch her, but never did her fragility seem more precious than in that one instance. Her own fingers shook nervously as they curled around Edward's wrists and directed his hands where she wanted them.

Tentative touches turned into passionate moments of exploration with fingers, lips, and tongues; each caress too much and still not enough, constant teasing, the knotting and twisting of something inside that was aching to unravel.

Her hands finally wandered to his waist again, making short work of unbuckling the narrow belt and divesting him of his suit pants, pushing them down his legs with her feet, and an insatiable, almost animalistic need welled inside him as her fingers ghosted over his skin.

His touch was gentle as he stopped her fingers from hooking under the hem of his boxer shorts, both of their bodies frozen in the moonlight, their indigo shadows materializing as flickering, fractured images across the walls. Her hair hung past her shoulders in tangles now, brushing softly against the rise of her breasts, and her chest heaved as she fought for breath. The monster in him was still monitoring every beat of her heart, every raspy mouthful of air she drew in, but the man had become aware of the readiness of her body, the pheromones calling to him with increasing concentration.

"Bella—"

"I know."

He wanted to tell her this was it, he couldn't guarantee any gentlemanly behavior from here on out—_trying_ would never seem quite so trying, but she purposefully removed herself from his grasp and returned to the bed, lying flat on the mattress by his side.

Edward sat up, hesitantly, and moved to stand next to the bedside. He slowly slid the boxers off his hips, reaching back to still Bella's hand behind him as she mimicked the movement with her own undergarments. "No," he declared, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

He shook his head as he let go of her hand. "Nothing. _I_ want to do that part."

Silently, he walked around to the end of the bed and sunk to his knees on the mattress. The comforter rustled as she parted her legs and he knelt between them, looking down at her body, taking deep breaths. Everything up to this point had been 'easy,' now the true torture began.

Her legs were smooth and warm as he traced invisible patterns across her flesh, swirls and loops like ivy climbing up her legs. He heard the sharp intake of breath, her abdomen sinking in toward her spine as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of her silk panties.

He slowly began to inch them down and she lifted her hips in cooperation. He was fairly shaking with the effort of being cautious with his angel, every conscious thought battling between that vigilance and his desire for her body. He successfully removed the garment and gently dropped it off the end of the bed before turning his attention back to her.

"Ready?" His voice came out as no more than a whisper while he carefully prowled the length of the bed.

She nodded emphatically. "Mm hmm," she replied, opening her arms, inviting him closer.

_Mind over matter, mind over matter,_ he repeated the mantra while he mentally took stock of himself as he leaned down over her, icy skin coming into contact with fiery.

Her lips eagerly sought out his as he moved into position, her warmth achingly, tantalizingly close, _pleasurable_, and he was almost beginning to think this could be possible.

"I love you," she whispered as he joined their bodies, her face a mask of strength as she fought off the wince and the tears that threatened. Her breath was quick and she grasped his biceps in an attempt to still him for a moment.

He closed his eyes tight, fighting the tremor that threatened to take over his body—she was hurting, subtly perhaps, but he didn't want to make it worse. Edward kissed her cheekbone, his apology drifting over her skin.

"It's OK," she hissed, her voice breaking once. She parted her legs further, letting him settle more intimately against the cradle of her hips, and swept the hair from his eyes. Her intention was clear and he groaned aloud, biting his lip, his head resting on her shoulder.

He moved slowly at first, so slowly, as her body accommodated the invasion of another, and it was a chore now to divert his attention to monitor her pulse and breathing when it felt as though his own heart sighed with every kiss.

Edward was so terrified to upset the measured rhythm he'd created, though Bella seemed to want more. She met every thrust with arched hips and her keenness made his battle for control all the more difficult, though it was a sweet agony as she writhed beneath him, whispering his name.

Discovering one another's bodies, discovering how to please one another would be the greatest joy he ever knew, he was convinced of that. Awkward moments aside, that breakthrough seemed to be what a part of him had always longed for. The vampire had been satiated, and the man had waited patiently for his own turn at satisfaction. A rivulet of venom trickled under his tongue but one look in Bella's eyes, one kiss pressed to his shoulder, one sigh with his name painted on it held the monster at bay, the man throbbing for his chance to please her, if only this once.

His breath mingled with hers in the dark, and he vowed to remember the sound of her moans, should he never be blessed with an experience so heavenly ever again. Surely a chorus of angels couldn't sound so mellifluous.

After several minutes of greatly accelerated breathing, her toes dug into the mattress, her nails clawed at his back, and her eyes fluttered closed as he watched her head tip back against the pillow and felt her body begin to quiver. His name spilled from her lips followed by a nearly breathless 'oh' as she contracted around him, and he had never wanted to kiss her more than he did in this one moment.

His lips quickly found hers, his tongue darting out to find the sanctuary of her mouth as he felt himself unraveling, torn apart at the carefully sewn seam he'd wrapped himself in for decades. It was a loss of an entirely different kind of control and the tumbling, spiraling was fantastic, the greatest pleasure he had ever known.

When Bella stopped trembling he gently rested his body against hers, his cheek pressed to her breastbone. He counted every beat of her heart, every raspy breath she drew in while she tangled her fingers in his hair, twirling the unruly locks as she draped a leg over his.

Edward felt triumphant as he drew lazy circles against the side of her breast and ribcage—he had done it. The impossible was possible. He had mastered his passions, both of them, and pleased his wife in the process, or at least he hoped he had.

He turned his head, looking up into her soulful brown eyes and smiled. "You are amazing," he replied, tracing the cupid's bow of her lip. "Truly."

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers curling in his hair, tilting his head until she could find his lips again. "Thank you, for trying—for succeeding. It was—extraordinary."

"Are you cold?" he asked suddenly, pushing the damp strands of her hair away from her face.

"A little," she admitted softly. "But don't leave me, please, I'm fine."

He arched an eyebrow and reached over, grabbing the edge of the duvet and leaning up just enough to tuck it between their bodies before resettling behind her on the bed. She took his hand in hers, tracing the band of gold around his third finger.

"Thank you for today, for everything. We belong to one another now." Her voice sounded detached, misplaced.

"Does that make you unhappy?" He was suddenly terrified in the midst of all this bliss that she was regretting their marriage already.

"No, not at all." She rolled over in his arms and took his face in her hands. "I've just never felt like I've belonged before, you know? And now I belong to a family and a husband. It's a nice change."

He kissed the tip of her nose and guided her head to his shoulder, tucking her head under his chin. "I belonged to you before we ever set eyes on one another. I never really believed in that kind of fate or destiny, but perhaps I just didn't realize what I was waiting for until you came along."

She squeezed him tight and stifled a yawn. "Isn't it traditionally the man who immediately falls asleep afterward?" he teased, pressing a kiss to her head.

"Yes, and isn't it usually the man who is the virtue-stealer in the relationship?"

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Why Mrs. Cullen, are you insinuating that you've stolen my virtue? I rather think we've stolen one another's. I've told you before that there's nothing traditional about us, but perhaps we've discovered something."

She yawned again and burrowed deeper into his chest. "I've always known there was nothing ordinary about us. Extraordinary."

He began to stroke her hair and hummed her lullaby, ignoring the quiet tune still playing on the stereo. He perused the word she'd just used—extraordinary. Bizarre. Astonishing. Amazing. Unexpected. They never should have been together in the first place, yet somehow he'd overcome instinct and fallen in love against all odds. Perhaps they did qualify. "I think you're right, Mrs. Cullen. Extraordinary, indeed."


End file.
